At Last
by Annie Wright
Summary: “Remember how I told ya I’d tell ya when I was ready?” She nodded again, her eyes as big as saucers. “I’m ready.”


Title: At Last (sequel to 'Least Complicated')  
Author: Annie Wright (AnnieW177@aol.com  
Category: DRR  
Rating: PG-13   
Disclaimer: trust me, I'd give for my own John Doggett. However, he and Monica aren't mine.   
Summary: "Remember how I told ya I'd tell ya when I was ready?" She nodded again, her eyes as big as saucers. "I'm ready."  
  
Author's Notes at the end.  
  
You smiled, and then the spell was cast  
And here we are in heaven, for you are mine  
At last!  
-Etta James, 'At Last'  
  
March 21  
9:03 am  
  
  
A bitter wind picked up as Monica exited the Federal Triangle Metro station, and with a shiver she pulled her coat closed. The weathermen were calling for snow, and she mentally cursed herself as she trudged up Pennsylvania Avenue-she should have bought a car this weekend as she had planned. But no, she had put it off as usual, and so here she was, freezing her ass off as she walked from the subway, and with her luck she'd be stuck walking in the snow this afternoon.   
By the time she reached the Hoover Building, she was frozen solid. All she wanted now was to get down to the office with a hot cup of coffee and fight with John over who got what section of that day's Post.  
"Morning, Agent Reyes." Joe the security guard was friendly, as always. "Cold enough for you?"  
"Morning," she replied with a smile as she handed him her big black bag. "And yes, it is cold enough for me. I thought it was supposed to be spring."  
Joe chuckled as he rifled through her bag. "That's always what you out-of-towners think. Quite a few major snowstorms have happened in March." He handed her bag back to her. "You stay warm."  
"You too."  
She made her way down to the basement, only to find the office empty. John's computer was on and his suit jacket was slung over the back of his chair, so she knew he was around somewhere. "John?"  
"Behind ya." He walked in, two mugs of coffee in hand. "Figured you'd be wantin' some coffee, might soften the blow."  
"What blow?" she asked, tossing her coat on the back of her chair and taking the mug. "John, what aren't you telling me."  
"Ya might wanna sit for this."  
Eyeing him warily, she pulled her chair over to his desk and sat.   
"We got a meetin' at 9:30."  
"Okay."  
"An audit."  
"An audit?"  
"Yeah. Your friend Brad has decided that since the department budget for the X-Files doesn't have funds allotted for three agents that we need to cut some corners." His face was unreadable, but the tone of his voice said it all.   
"What? That's a load of bullshit."  
"Well it might not be so bad. I called Agent Scully, and she said she and Mulder had to do somethin' like this not that long ago, and that in the end nothin' really changed."  
"That was when Skinner was their AD. Brad's a whole different story."  
"I know. That's what scares me."  
Monica shot John a coy glance over her mug. "Think it would help if I offered to sleep with him?"  
John's face was like stone.  
"Kidding, kidding." She took a sip of her coffee. "Where's your sense of humor today?"  
"I left it in my other pants."  
"Now that's funny." She looked around. "Where is Dana?"  
"She had to take William to the doctor, said its time for his shots, somethin' like that. She'll be in tomorrow."  
"Think we can get out of this audit?"  
"Ya think I didn't try? Trust me, I can think of a million ways I'd rather spend my mornin'."  
Monica nodded. "You and me both."  
With a sigh, John looked at his watch. "We'd better go."  
Sighing, she nodded.   
  
  
  
2:26 pm  
  
  
"Now, if we cut your travel budget by..." Agent Ellis droned on, and Monica felt herself slipping into a waking coma. Over the course of this audit, she'd already decided she wanted to repaint her bedroom, replace her missing Clash CD, buy those shoes she'd seen at Kenneth Cole, and that Agent Ellis looked startlingly like Dr. Bunsen Honeydew from Sesame Street. She doodled on her notepad, and she felt John kick her gently under the table. When she looked up at him he gave her a stern look, and she crossed her eyes at him before resuming her doodling.  
When the door to Brad's conference room opened, Monica felt a faint glimmer of hope. His secretary had been told not to disturb them unless it was important...hopefully this was something that would get them out of the stuffy, windowless room.   
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know that I just heard from OPR, and they're closing the government offices down because of the snow."  
"Thank you, Rachel." He turned to John and Monica. "Well, I guess we'll have to pick this up again tomorrow. 9:30."  
They stood, but just as Monica reached the door Brad stopped her. "Monica, can I speak to you a moment."  
"Sure."   
John paused at the door, waiting for her.  
"This doesn't concern you, Agent Doggett," Brad said. "You're free to go."  
Without even looking she knew John's face was impassive but the tips of his ears were bright red. "Whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of John."   
Brad sighed. "I know you are still without a car, and I'd like to offer you a ride home."  
"She's got a ride."   
If looks could kill, Brad's look would have killed John on the spot. "I wasn't asking you, Agent Doggett." He smiled lecherously at Monica. "So how about it?"  
It was all she could do not to smack his smug face. "I have a ride. But thank you for the offer." She smiled as insincerely as possible before turning and walking back to the door. She felt John's hand on her back as she passed him, and when they reached the elevator she gave him a thankful smile.  
"Thanks for saving me back there."  
"You could slap him with a harassment suit."  
"I can handle it, John."  
When they reached their office Monica shrugged into her coat. "Okay, well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."  
"Don't ya want a ride home?" A hurt look flickered across John's face.   
"Oh...I thought that was just an excuse to get me out of having to go home with Brad."  
"No, I'll give ya a lift."  
"It's okay, really, I can take the Metro."  
He glanced down at her spiky-heeled boots. "In those shoes?"  
"What?"  
"C'mon, Mon, don't be stupid. Let me drive ya."  
"But it's out of your way..."  
"Mon, don't argue. I'm not in the mood."  
"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed today," she said with a smile, grabbing her bag. "Leave your good mood in your other pants, too?"  
  
  
  
The streets of DC were a mess, and Monica could see John was growing increasingly frustrated. "Look, John, I can take the train."  
"You're not takin' the subway."  
She sighed. "This is just irritating you...look, we're maybe a block from Metro Center. Let me out and I can catch a subway."  
"Not a chance."  
"God you are so stubborn!" she laughed.   
"And that's not the pot callin' the kettle black?"   
"I can see that sitting in this traffic is pissing you off, why don't you just take me to the Metro station and..."  
"Wouldja just shut up and let me do somethin' nice for ya?"  
"Well, when you put it that way," she replied. "Aren't you a sweet talker."  
"That damn audit sucked all the sweet talk outta me."  
"How can you be in a bad mood? It's a snow day!"  
He looked over at her. "Were you not in the same meetin' I was?"  
"Is it me, or does Agent Ellis look like that guy from Sesame Street, the doctor? Bunsen Honeydew?"  
John looked at her seriously for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Did you pay any attention?"  
She fought a sheepish smile. "Not really, no."  
John laughed again, shaking his head. "What am I gonna do with you?"  
"Drop me off at the Metro?"  
"No." His smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.   
They drove the rest of the way in silence. When they pulled up at Monica's building, there was a man taping something up inside the window. "Hold on," she said to John, hopping out of his truck and walking up to the super. "Mr. Loomis?"  
"Oh, hey Ms. Reyes."  
"What's going on?"  
"Power's out. Pepco says they're workin' on it, but power's out all over the city."  
"Any idea when it'll be back on?"  
"Nope. Leave me a number where I can reach you and I'll give you a call when we get it fixed."  
She scribbled her cell number on a piece of paper and walked back to John's truck, flinging open the door.  
"What's the problem?"  
"Power's out," Monica replied with a sigh. "I have to find someplace to stay."  
"You can stay with me."  
She gave him a look. "With the mood you're in?"  
"Mon, come on."  
"What? Look, I'm sure I can stay with Dana, it's not a big deal."  
"Don't be stupid, Mon. I've got plenty of room and I'm already here, you might as well stay with me."  
"That's the second time today you've said that to me."  
"Get in or close the door, you're lettin' the heat out. And second time I've said what?"  
"Said, 'Mon, don't be stupid'."  
John closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I'm sorry for sayin' that to ya. Now go upstairs and get whatever you need."  
"What's next, 'Me John, you Monica'?" she asked with a smile, rummaging around in her bag for her keys. "And while I'm gone, try and remove the pole from your ass."  
As she shut the truck door, she heard him laugh.  
  
  
  
"Is it ever gonna stop?" John asked, peering out the window in his kitchen as Monica stirred a pot on the stove. "This keeps up we won't be workin' again until Monday."  
"And that's a bad thing?"  
"You've seen my refrigerator."  
She shrugged. "We can probably find a grocery store in the morning that's open."   
"I dunno. What are ya makin'?"  
"Chicken noodle soup. It's all you had. Grab me two bowls?"  
He took two bowls out of a cupboard and handed them to her. "I didn't expect ya to make me dinner."  
"No need to make you cook on top of your bad mood." She shot him a coy look as she poured the soup into the bowls. "Or are those the pants you left your sense of humor in?"  
John chuckled. "If your askin' if I'm still in a bad mood, the answer is no."  
"Good." She handed him a bowl. "Table or are we going to be unsociable and eat in front of the television?"  
"I think I can make conversation over a bowl of soup."  
They sat down at the table and ate in silence. Monica chuckled to herself.  
"What?"  
"Since when do we have trouble making conversation?" she asked.   
John shrugged. "I dunno, you're the chatty one."  
"You always seemed to hold up your end of the conversation pretty well."  
"Yeah, I guess. Not much to discuss now that we're workin' together."  
"I guess." She sighed. "Do you miss New York?"  
He shrugged. "Yes and no. Why do you ask?"  
"Just curious."  
"Do you?"  
"Yeah...I miss certain aspects of it."  
"Like what?"  
"Just...I had friends there, a nice big social circle, it was always busy and bustling, always something to do. DC has been an...adjustment, to say the least." A sad look crossed his face and Monica winced internally. "Not that I don't love what I do, because I love my job and I'm happy to be working with you," she said hastily. "But my only friends are you, a woman with a baby who may or may not be some kind of extraterrestrial, and three computer geeks. Not exactly the circles I'm used to traveling in."  
"Yeah, no gay men."  
At this, she laughed. "Kevin and Louis were thrilled that I was moving up here to work with you...they really took to you."  
John chuckled. "That's...great."  
"In fact, they said to tell you and I quote, 'Make sure you tell that fine specimen of a man John Doggett that we are waiting with bated breath for him to come and visit.' How's that for a greeting?"  
"I don't know if I'm flattered or scared outta my mind."  
"We have an open invitation to visit whenever we want."  
"Well that's very...kind of them."  
Monica nodded, smiling wanly. "Yeah, they're great."  
"You okay? You look kinda...sad, all of a sudden."  
"Just...yeah, I'm fine."   
"Liar. You can't fool me, Mon. Spill it."  
"No, really, it's nothing." She smiled at him, this time for real. "Honest. Just a momentary lapse. How about a game?"  
He furrowed his brow in confusement. "What kinda game?"  
"Cards, Monopoly," she shrugged. "Whatever. What do you have?"  
"I think I got Candy Land in the basement."  
Monica laughed. "Anything a bit more. ..challenging?"  
"Hey, Candy Land ain't no picnic." He thought for a moment. "Trivial Pursuit?"  
"Sounds good to me. Where is it?"  
"In the basement...bottom of the stairs on the left is a closet, should be in there."  
"Be right back." She stood up and he could hear her walking down to the basement, and the squeak of the closet door. A moment later she reappeared, a dark blue box in hand. "You have a lot of games," she said, sitting down and opening the box. "Chinese checkers, chess, Parcheesi. Do you play any of those?"  
"Not much of a game player...nobody to play with." He said it matter-of-factly, but Monica could hear the loneliness in his voice.   
"Well, I love games," Monica replied, chucking him the blue game piece. "So now you have someone to play with."  
John nodded. "Sounds good."  
She grinned as she slid a box of cards across the table to him. "Prepare to get your ass kicked."  
  
  
  
John sat up in bed, convinced he heard a noise from downstairs. Slipping into his jeans, he padded downstairs, his gun in hand.   
The light was on in the living room, and Monica lay asleep on the couch, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. She was covered with an old, ugly afghan that his grandmother had made him, and from the end of it he could see her Eeyore slippers peeking out at him. He laughed, just as he had laughed when she had appeared in the living room earlier that evening.   
"Eeyore?" he'd asked, giving her a look.  
"Yeah," she'd replied, flopping down on the couch next to him. "My niece Dani loves Winnie the Pooh, so I always get her a Pooh book or video or toy whenever I go visit. She gave me these for Christmas last year. She says I remind her of Tigger."  
"That's a fair assessment, so why the Eeyore slippers?"  
At this, she had smiled at him, a gentle smile that made his heart skip a beat. "Dani says that of all the characters, Tigger is the only one who loves Eeyore, and Eeyore is the only one who loves Tigger. I think she's right...the other characters are all too, I dunno, close to perfect. But Eeyore and Tigger aren't, and I think they appreciate that in each other." Her eyes bored into his with an intensity that made his heart pound, and suddenly he was back in her car that fateful evening, talking about cats and dogs but knowing it wasn't animals they were discussing. He knew that yes, she was talking about characters from a children's book, but that she was also talking about him, about them. "I mean come on, who else would love a manic depressive donkey and an ADHD tiger?"  
On the floor beside her lay a hardback book, which had fallen out of her hands, its dust jacket half-off. Setting his gun on the coffee table, he picked her book up and righted the dust jacket, noting the title was something vaguely academic and dry sounding. He opened the book to the first page and it was all he could do to not burst out laughing.  
She was reading 'Hollywood Wives.'  
Smiling, he set the book down on the coffee table and as gently as he could, took her glasses off and set them on top of the book. Monica stirred slightly.  
"Wha..." Her voice was thick with sleep, but she didn't open her eyes.  
"It's just me," he replied, slipping an arm under her knees and one under her torso. "You fell asleep on the couch."  
"Oh." Instinctively, she put her arms around his neck and he lifted her gently. "Where we going?"  
"Gonna take you upstairs and put you in bed."  
She pressed her face into his neck, nuzzling him. "I can walk."  
John smiled. "I don't think so."  
He carried her up the stairs and into the guest room. Gently he lay her on the bed and unmade it, removing her slippers before tucking her legs under the covers. "Mon?"  
"Hmm?"   
"You wanna sleep in your sweatshirt?"  
She shook her head once.   
John took several deep breaths before reaching one hand under her sweatshirt and prayed she was wearing something underneath. When his hand felt cotton and not skin he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and slowly made his way to her arm. Gently he pulled her right arm from the sleeve, then the left, and with a minimum of movement managed to get the bulky sweatshirt over her head without waking her. He lay her back on the pillows and tucked her in, staring at her for a moment in repose.  
He loved watching her sleep. Only Monica, however...before her, women sleeping had never held any interest. He couldn't recall ever watching his ex-wife sleep, or if he had he couldn't recall ever enjoying it as much as he enjoyed watching Monica.   
Standing there, watching her, he felt something he thought he would never feel again...he wanted to lay down next to her and hold her, to wake up in the morning with her arms around him and the smell of her on his clothes. He wanted her face to be the first thing he saw in the morning, the last thing at night, wanted to come home and find her in his kitchen or his living room or his bed, wanted her never to leave.  
He pushed the thought out of his mind with a shake of his head. He folded her sweatshirt and lay it at the foot of the bed before leaning over and dropping a soft kiss on her forehead. "G'night, Tigger," he whispered, brushing an errant strand of hair off her face before turning and leaving, being careful to shut the door quietly behind him.  
Monica opened her eyes slowly, a smile on her lips. "Night, Eeyore."  
  
  
  
"John?" Monica called as she came down the stairs. The television was on, but there was no reply. "John?" she called again, wandering into the kitchen. She peered out the window and saw him, shovel in hand, digging out his truck.   
She opened the front door and was greeted by a blast of cold air. "John?"  
"Mornin'," he called, looking over.   
"What are you doing?"  
"Figured we should try and get to the store," he replied, resuming his shoveling. "Roads are plowed, so we should be okay drivin'."  
"Want some help?"  
"Sure."  
She shrugged into her heavy coat and pulled her gloves on before joining him outside. "What can I do?"  
He reached into his jeans pocket and handed her the keys to the truck. "There's an ice scraper behind the passenger seat."  
Fumbling slightly, she managed to unlock the truck and fish the ice scraper out. She had to stand on tiptoe to reach the windshield, and she soon found that she wasn't tall enough to get any leverage. She tried valiantly, though, and gave the ice scraper one good, hard shove. It went flying out of her hand, across the window, and over the side of the truck.   
Behind her, John laughed.   
"What's so funny?"   
"You."   
"Not a lot of snow where I'm from," she replied with a smile, walking around the truck and picking up the ice scraper.   
"Obviously."  
"If you're going to make fun of me," she replied, wielding the ice scraper at him, "you can do it yourself while I go inside and watch Good Morning America."  
He held the shovel out at her. "Trade ya."  
She eyed him warily before taking the shovel and handing him the scraper. "One word about my lousy shoveling skills and you're on your own."  
"Deal."  
They worked in silence for awhile, and when John was done he leaned back on the truck to watch Monica work. Her face was pink from cold and exertion, and snow was sticking in her hair. John smiled as he watched.   
"Something funny?" Monica asked, heaving another shovel full of snow onto John's yard.   
"No."  
"How about some help then?"  
"Only one shovel." His smile was slow, languid, amused.  
"So you're gonna make me finish shoveling." She gave him a look that was half amused, half mischievous.   
"Thinkin' about it, yeah, you're doin' such a good job." He was grinning now, clearly enjoying teasing her.   
At that, she dropped the shovel. "You're asking for it, John."  
"Am I?"  
Before he could blink, she'd lobbed a snowball at his head. He ducked just in time, and the snowball lobbed off the front porch. "Hey!"  
"I told you!" Monica laughed in reply, lobbing another snowball at him. This time her aim was true, and she hit him square in the middle of his chest. "You asked for it."  
He stood, staring at her for a moment, and in that moment Monica knew she was in trouble. Laughing, she turned tail and fled across the lawn towards the front door, but John was quicker. Just as she reached the first step she felt his hand on her arm, and in the blink of an eye she was lying face-up in the snow, John pinning her to the ground and a handful of snow in his hand.   
"Gimme one reason not to," he said with a breathless smile.  
"Go ahead," she retorted. "I'm not scared."  
He hesitated.  
"What are you, chicken?"  
He looked down at her pink face, her dark hair like an oil slick on the white snow, her big sepia colored eyes looking at him with a mixture of laughter and hope-hope in the future, in him, in them-and promptly shoved the handful of snow in her face.  
Her laugher rang out across the silent street, and she wiped her face off with one gloved hand. "That wasn't nice."  
"You asked for it." Taking of his glove, he reached out and wiped snow from her pink cheeks. The color deepened at his touch, and she bit her lip nervously.   
"We should get to the store," he said, pulling his hand away and standing, offering her a hand up.  
With a disappointed smile she took his hand and allowed him to help her up.  
  
  
  
They were putting groceries away when Monica turned to him with a silly grin. "Let's go sledding."  
"What?"   
"You heard me."  
"You wanna go sleddin'?"  
"Yeah...I've never been."  
The look on his face was hesitant.  
"Come on. When was the last time you went sledding?"  
A look of sadness flickered across his face. "I, uh, I used to take Luke."  
"Oh." She bit her lip. "Never mind."  
"No, it's okay."   
"It was a bad idea."  
The look on her face was dejected, and John immediately felt bad. "Luke's sled is in the basement. It's one of those old ones, with the runners on it. Want me to see if I can dig it up?"  
She smiled. "No, it's okay."  
"Go put on your coat. I'll be back in a minute." He made a move towards the basement, but Monica stopped him with a hand on his arm.  
"Look, John, you don't have to..."  
"No, Mon, I want to." He sighed. "Not everything should remind me of him."  
He walked away and she sighed, putting her coat on as instructed. He returned a moment later, carrying a Flexible Flyer sled. In silence he slipped his coat on and ushered her outside. Monica took the sled from him as he locked the door, and they headed off down the street. "I don't know the area very well..."  
"Well, why don't we follow that group of kids up ahead."  
"Okay."  
They walked in silence, Monica towing the sled behind them. Finally John spoke.  
"There was this park by our house. It had a big hill and every time it snowed, Luke would drag his sled out of the basement and we'd go." He paused. "The last time he went by himself...he and his friend Jake, they went with Jake's big brother. He said it wasn't 'cool' to go with his old dad anymore."  
Monica slipped her hand out of her glove and took John's hand in hers. She slipped his glove off and stuck it in his coat pocket before taking her cold hand in his, entwining their fingers.   
John looked over at her, his eyes questioning.  
"I think it's cool to go sledding with Luke's old dad," she said with a smile.   
He squeezed her hand.  
They walked in silence, and when they reached their destination, Monica's face lit up. The hill was large and steep, and, judging by the amount of screaming the kids were doing, a lot of fun.   
Monica set the sled down at the top of the hill. "Let's go."  
"You go, it won't hold the both of us."  
"Sure it will." She bit her lip. "I've never done this before."  
"What?" John laughed. "How can you never have been sleddin'?"  
"Doesn't snow much in Mexico."  
"Ya went to college in New England!"  
"Yes, in a big city with no hills!"  
"All right, all right. Sit down, an' put your feet up on the very front rung thingies." As soon as she was settled, he sat down behind her and put his feet up on the wooden steering handles. He felt like a jackass, with his knees practically around his ears, but he liked being close to Monica, liked being close enough to smell her hair, liked knowing he was going to have to hold her. "You're gonna have to hang on to somethin'."  
She wrapped her arms around his legs, and turned to him, a coy look on her face. "This okay?"  
Suddenly, he felt very warm. "Uh, yeah, that's fine." He put his arms around her waist. "You ready?"  
She nodded. "Yeah."  
"Okay, here goes." He gave one good, hard push and they were off down the hill. Monica's grip on his legs was like a vise, and she hollered at the top of her lungs as they hurtled forward, her hair flying in his face.   
When they reached the bottom she turned to him, her face pink with cold and excitement, a big smile lighting up her face. "That was so much fun."  
For the second time in 24 hours he just looked at her, wanted to reach out and touch her face, her hair. He felt the same feeling he'd felt last night when he'd taken her and put her in bed, but this time he didn't push it away. It had taken him the better part of last night and this morning to figure out what exactly this feeling was, but once he had he felt stupid for not recognizing it before.  
It was love.  
At first he was afraid-well, terrified really, if he was honest with himself, but after a moment he realized that he'd been in love with her for a long time, years even, and suddenly he wasn't so scared anymore. He'd gotten up before sunrise and watched Monica sleep, content just to be in her presence. He had been here once before, but he'd screwed up. He made a promise to himself, and to Monica, that he wouldn't let it happen again.  
"Let's go again," she said.   
He couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, lets."  
  
  
  
An hour later they trudged home, damp and cold but happy. When John had taken her hand she'd been surprised, but smiled shyly at him.   
When they reached his house he set the sled against the side of the house, and took her hand again to lead her up the front steps. She didn't see the small patch of ice on the bottom step and she slipped backwards, falling down into the snow and pulling John with her. He landed on top of her, and she let out a small "Oof!" as his shoulder made contact with her chest.  
"You okay?" he asked, sitting up some.  
"Yeah."  
They looked at each other for a moment, and without thinking he leaned forward and kissed her gently. Her eyes fluttered closed and he could feel her breathing speed up, and he was sure she could feel him breathing heavily as well.   
When he pulled away, Monica opened her eyes and looked at him warily. "John...look, I know...I mean, I just...what I'm trying to say..."  
Laughing, he placed a finger on her lips. "Shut up and listen. Can ya do that?"  
She nodded, biting her lip.  
"Remember how I told ya I'd tell ya when I was ready?"  
She nodded again, her eyes as big as saucers.  
"I'm ready."  
She stared at him for a moment, her face impassive.   
"Mon?"  
Suddenly a grin spread across her face and she took his face in her hands and kissed him soundly. She fished his keys from his pocket and stood up, walking up to the front door and unlocking it.  
"Where ya goin'?"  
She opened the door and left it open, and he watched as she took her shoes off and left them by the front door. He stood and followed her, but by the time he'd gotten inside there was a trail of clothing leading upstairs-socks, sweater, long sleeved tee shirt.  
"Mon?"  
A pair of jeans narrowly missed his head, and he saw her standing on the top landing of the stairs in only her underwear. "You'd better hurry up, John."   
Speechless, he just stood there.   
"What? I've been waiting for years, don't make me wait any longer."  
He took off his coat and threw it over the banister, taking the stairs two at a time. By the time he reached the bedroom she was lying on the bed, waiting for him with a smile. He took his shoes off and crawled onto the bed with her, kissing her fervently, glad to discover she tasted the way he had remembered.   
Monica broke their kiss to pull his shirt over his head, throwing the shirt aside. "What took you so long?" she asked in a whisper, tracing the lines on his face. "I was beginning to think I'd be waiting forever."  
"I dunno...I just knew it was time. Past time." He looked her in the eye, seeing all the love he felt reflected in them. "I got a lot to make up to you."  
"No, you have nothing to make up to me."  
"But..."  
"But my backside. I chose to wait for you. And I was prepared to wait as long as I had to." She smiled at him. "You're worth it to me. I'd have waited forever." Her eyes filled with tears. "I have loved you for so long, John. So long that I've forgotten what it's like to not love you."  
Tenderly, he wiped her tears away, kissing her. "Don't ever leave me, Mon, I need you."  
"I told you years ago, you'll never lose me. And I'm still here."  
At that, John smiled. "How'd I end up with someone like you?"  
Monica's grin was playful. "You got lucky...and you might get really lucky if you'd shut up and kiss me already."  
It was an offer he couldn't refuse.  
  
  
  
  
She had never looked lovelier.  
He was lying on the couch with the remote in hand, but instead of watching television he was watching her, standing at the stove and stirring a pot of something that smelled wonderful. She was in one of his button-down shirts and her Eeyore slippers, hair askew, lips swollen from his kisses.   
"Hurry up, movie's about to start."  
"Okay, okay." She poured the contents of the pot into two mugs and walked into the living room with them, setting them down on the coffee table before settling herself on top of him, her head resting on his chest. "What're we watching?"  
"The Maltese Falcon. Hope that's okay."  
"Mmm. I love Bogey."  
Just as the opening credits rolled, Monica's cell phone rang. She made an attempt to reach it on the coffee table without moving, but her effort was in vain and so she sat up and grabbed it on the fourth ring.  
"Monica Reyes."  
"Monica, it's Dana."  
"Oh, hey Dana." Monica settled herself back on John's chest. "What's going on?"  
"Is your power out?"  
"Yeah, it's been out since yesterday."  
"Do you need a place to stay? I'm about to head back to Annapolis, you're more than welcome to join me."  
"Oh...well, I uh, I'm staying with John, actually."  
"Oooohhhhhh." Monica could hear Scully's smile over the phone. "Can I safely assume you'll be there all weekend, power outage or not?"  
"Yeah, that's a pretty safe assumption."  
"Well then, how about we have lunch on Monday, my treat."  
Monica smiled. "Sounds good. See you Monday."  
"What was that about?" John asked after she'd hung up.   
"Girl talk. Spare me for a few hours Monday so Dana and I can go to lunch?"  
He threaded his hand through her hair and kissed her forehead. "Sure." After a moment he spoke again. "So...what next?"  
"You tell me."  
"You could move in."  
She turned to look at him. "John, you and I both know that that won't work. I just signed a lease for that apartment and besides, if the Bureau got wind of this we'd definitely be separated, if not fired."  
"So Mulder can knock up his partner but we can't shack up."  
"You make it sound so romantic, John."   
"Seriously. Think about it, Mon."  
"Think about who our AD is. Now I'm sure Skinner wouldn't care but Brad will have a field day with this." She sighed. "We could just play it by ear."  
"Promise me somethin'."   
"Anything."  
"That I can wake up to you every mornin'."  
She smiled. "That's one promise I will enjoy keeping."  
  
  
  
  
  
John knocked around the house, unsure of what to do. Around him were reminders of her...Eeyore slippers tucked under the bed, toothbrush next to his in the toothbrush holder, some of her lacy underwear mixed in with his boxers. He hadn't wanted her to leave-she hadn't wanted to leave, but she'd been away for days and said she had things to do before work in the morning.   
So after he'd taken her home he'd come back, done some dishes, washed some clothes. He tried to watch television but found himself distracted, tried to read but couldn't focus. He felt 15 again, sweaty palms and all. He heated up some of her leftovers and ate them in front of a rerun of 'The Dukes of Hazzard' but he still felt out of sorts, antsy, jumpy. He sat with the phone in his hand, debating whether or not to call her, when the phone rang.  
"Were you holding the phone?" she asked, a laugh in her voice.   
"Maybe. How's the apartment?"  
"A little cold, but the same as when I left it...except my freezer defrosted itself, so I'm standing here in a puddle of water and melted Ben and Jerry's."  
"Nice."  
"Oh yeah, just what I wanted." She paused, and he knew she was biting her lip. "I was, uh, wondering if maybe you'd like to come over and..."  
"Keep ya company?"   
"I was thinking more along the lines of keeping me warm but keeping me company works, too."   
"I like your idea better. Be over in half an hour."  
"Make it twenty and bring some clothes."  
  
  
Monday was warm and sunny, and Monica found it hard to believe that not five days earlier the streets of DC were covered in snow. She deftly dodged the remaining piles of sooty snow as she and Scully walked down E Street towards the Austin Grill.  
"How's your mom?" Monica asked casually.   
"She's fine." Scully shot her a look. "Are we going to make small talk or are you going to tell me why you sounded like the cat that ate the canary when I called on Friday?"  
Monica couldn't help but grin. "That obvious?"  
"A billboard might have been more subtle."  
When they were seated, Scully gave her a look. "Spill it."  
"Yeah, well, I'm sure you can guess what happened."  
"Did you see it coming at all?"  
"Yeah, kinda, I don't know. It's just...John."  
"What about him?" Scully popped a tortilla chip in her mouth. "Why don't you start by giving me some history. All I know is you worked his son's case together, but there's more to it isn't there?"  
"Yeah." Monica fiddled with her silverware. "After Luke...we became friends. His wife left him, things happened, I moved to New Orleans..."  
"'Things happened'? What kind of things?" Monica shot her a look, and Scully nodded. "Those kind of things. So then what?"  
"He joined the FBI and was sent here, I was sent to New Orleans."  
"Why do I get the impression you are leaving something out?"  
At this, Monica smiled. "We uh, ended up sleeping together again, and it was painful. Really, truly hard for me because I loved him and he didn't love me. Well he did but...he said he wanted to love me like I loved him, but he wasn't ready."  
"And now he is."  
"Yeah."  
Scully smiled at her. "I'm glad to hear it. I think you're good for him."  
"So can I ask you a question?"  
"Sure."  
"How did you and Mulder do it? This whole working together and being together thing...did he move in, what?"  
Scully nodded as she ate another tortilla chip. "No. We both kept our own places. Mostly he stayed with me, which was okay, but it was nice that we each had a place to go when we needed to be alone. We uh, we had a special night, once a week we'd have a 'date,' and it was nice because it was something more to look forward to then going home and making dinner and watching the news."  
"So it wasn't...weird at all?"  
"It was and it wasn't. He'd been my best friend for years, all that changed was that we started sleeping together." Monica looked anxious, and Scully smiled at her. "Monica, trust me, the weirdness goes away. And in the end you're left with the best of both worlds, living and working with the person you love...who, if you happen to love Mulder, will drive you to homicidal mania every 14 days or so, but that's when you know that it's time for one of those 'you need to live at your place for a few days' talks and by the end of the first day you don't want to go home without them."   
Monica laughed. "I don't see me ever getting sick of John."  
"Yeah, well, I thought the same thing about Mulder."  
Three Weeks Later  
Monica's Apartment  
8:11 am  
  
  
John was brushing his teeth when Monica appeared behind him, placing a kiss on his cheek. "I have a present for you," she whispered in his ear.  
He spit and rinsed. "What?"  
"A present."  
"What for?"  
"No reason, now close your eyes."  
Obligingly, he closed his eyes. He felt her lift up his shirt collar and place something around his neck, and a moment later he knew.  
"Ya got me a tie? Mon, I got tons a ties."  
"Not like this one." He felt her tighten the knot. "Okay, you can look."  
He opened his eyes and sure enough it was a tie...navy blue with a gray polka dot pattern. "Yeah I got one like this...blue an' gray polka dots?"  
"They're not dots, silly," she said with a grin. "Look closer."  
He looked closer and sure enough the dots were tiny Eeyores. He turned to her, and she looked so nervous that he had to laugh. "Eeyore."  
"Yeah, Eeyore. I know it's not like you usually wear but I saw it and I wanted you to have it. You don't have to wear it if you don't like it..."  
"I love it," he said with a laugh before kissing her soundly, untying the knot of her bathrobe and steering her back towards the bedroom.   
"But John, we'll be late for work," she said as he kissed his way down her neck.  
"Nobody'll miss us."  
"But..." Her knees hit the back of the bed and she fell onto it.  
"Wouldja shut up and let me make love to ya?" he asked with a smile, and she laughed. This was definitely worth waiting for.  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
At last...this story is completed! How excited am I? I needed to give John and Monica some resolution, and so here it is-the happy ending everyone wants for them.   
  
Thanks to my betas-you guys are the best. I'm lucky to have you!  
  
Feedback is like a snow day-anticipated eagerly at AnnieW177@aol.com 


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